


Resurrection

by msmenna



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 06:06:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5697808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmenna/pseuds/msmenna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This tale takes place at Downton on the final day of 1922 and goes hand in hand with the January 3rd journal entry in "Patient #9" that also details the life changing event that took place that day. This story, however, focuses on Mary Crawley's life that New Year's Eve as she learns just how strong the bond of love is and discovers that miracles can happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resurrection

As a result of her internal clock fulfilling its mission, Mary was on the verge of waking when the familiar click that preceded her bedroom door opening registered in her ears. The sound was quickly followed by that of light footsteps padding across the room, the rattling of silverware colliding with china and the swooshing noise of heavy drapes gliding over metal rods.

The audible signs of Anna's presence propelled Mary into full consciousness and she began to stir in earnest. Her body unfurled from the fetal position it had taken some time during the night and stretched languorously under silky sheets the color of fresh cream. Then both feet skimmed the smooth surface covering the mattress like skates on an icy pond gliding downward quickly toward the foot of the bed.

Bare arms surfaced from beneath the down bedcover and rose up into the air amidst floating speckles of dust made golden by the bright light flooding through the tall windows. For a moment they remained in place, Mary's hands opening wide and flexing as if she were mining the sun's rays before dropping back down to the bed. Then her head popped out from under the bed clothes like a tortoise coming out of its shell.

It took but a moment for her eyes to adjust to the morning light and once they did, they landed and held on the framed wedding photograph that rested on the nightstand next to the bed. She had placed the remembrance there the day she and Matthew returned from their honeymoon and it remained in the same spot undisturbed save for a bit of dusting each day when the maids cleaned the room.

This particular photograph was her favorite from the many she and Matthew had posed for on the day they officially started to live their lives together. It never failed to stir deep emotions within her, more often than not gut-wrenching in the early months after his death. That thankfully had changed with time to the point that she no longer had to keep memories of her life with Matthew at bay because of the pain they brought with them. Now, as she focused on the image of her husband smiling brightly, she smiled, too.

Hearing Mary shifting in her bed, Anna pushed the last barrier to light aside and turned to greet her mistress. Then following her line of vision, she stopped short. The scene before the maid's eyes had played out many times before and had often ended with Lady Mary's tea turning cold while her body was wracked by sobs.

Anna stood in place staring up at the ornate ceiling for lack of a better thing to do and waited for the other shoe to drop. Yet the only sound she heard was Mrs. Hughes, the head housekeeper, giving one of the maids a directive on the other side of the bedroom door.

The silence in the room lingered on and Anna's anxiety lessened with each passing second. Still she remained as quiet as a church mouse in order to give Lady Mary as much privacy as could be managed under the circumstances. For lack of anything better to do, she began counting the ceiling tiles. When she reached, 35, "Good morning, Anna," gave her a jolt and she gasped.

"Sorry…I didn't mean to frighten you," Mary said in a tone that suggested she was surprised that she had.

"You didn't, "Mi'Lady. I'm perfectly fine," Anna declared cheerfully as she moved quickly to the side-table where she had deposited the tea service."...As I hope you are," Anna added, bracing her arms as she lifted the heavy silver tray and deposited it on Lady Mary's breakfast stand. Then she made her way across the room.

Once she reached her destination, she discreetly took in the state of her mistress's hair and bed covers to determine if she had a restful night. Noting both plait and linens relatively undisturbed, Anna smiled inwardly, pleased that Lady Mary's fitful sleep seemed to be behind her now.

Though already quite sure of it, the maid asked all he same, "Did you sleep well, Mi'Lady?"

"I'm afraid, too well," Mary replied as she positioned two pillows behind her back to bolster it and then remained still while Anna placed the breakfast table over her lap.

Eyeing the items on the tray, she passed over the toast as she had told her brother-in-law Tom that she would join him for breakfast in the dining room that morning. Instead, she reached for the china cup with the gold rim beside the slices of bread and raised it to her lips.

"Mmm…," Mary sighed contentedly after taking a long sip of the Yorkshire breakfast brew.

Then she placed the cup and saucer down and lamented, "If not for the busy morning I have ahead of me with Mr. Branson and the promise I made to Lady Grantham that I would be back in time to greet Tony Foyle, who I suppose I must now refer to as Lord Gillingham, and Charles Blake, I would have happily slept in."

Anna knew that Lord Gillingham was a childhood friend of Lady Mary's who had recently come back into her life and Charles Blake worked for the Government with another of her mistress's old friends, Evelyn Napier, Viscount Branksome. The latter two had recently stayed at Downton in an official capacity to assess the profitability of the estate. She also was keenly aware that all three men had a romantic interest in the beautiful young widow she cared for.

Dabbing at her lips with a crisp, white linen napkin, Mary elaborated, "Mr. Branson and I are delivering baskets of cheer to ring in 1923 to some of Downton's long-standing tenants as well as those we've employed to farm the larger tracts of land we've acquired."

"I'm sure they will appreciate the kind gesture very much, Mi'Lady," Anna remarked as she retrieved the satin robe that was draped over a tufted chair near the window and then deposited it within Lady Mary's reach.

Gathering her dressing gown and pushing her arms trough its sleeves, Mary motioned for Anna to remove the breakfast tray with a quick nod of her head and replied, "No doubt they will...and Mr. Drew, especially, as he will get the largest basket since he has done such an excellent job with the pigs. We may actually show a profit this year if the price of bacon continues to rise. Speaking of which, I must or I am going to be late meeting Mr. Branson and he will be piqued."

As Anna returned the tea tray to the side-table and began to tidy it, Mary threw off her covers and briskly rose to face the day that would close out 1922. After tying her robe sash securely, she took a step in the direction of the bathroom and then stopped as her eyes were drawn once more to the commemoration on her nightstand.

"He made quite a dashing groom," didn't he Anna?

"Yes, Mi'Lady, he most certainly did," the lady's maid replied.

"Master George will make one, too, some day," Mary said proudly. "He looks more and more like his father with each day that passes."

"The resemblance is striking," Anna concurred, "…especially the color of his eyes."

"I believe you are quite right, Anna, and I must say it pleases me that he was blessed with Matthew's eyes instead of mine."

Anna balked at that, "Your eyes are lovely Mi'Lady. Don't sell yourself short."

"I'm not," Mary replied turning to the maid. "You've known me long enough to know that modesty is not one of my virtues," she added brooking no argument.

Anna didn't offer one. Instead, she smiled as she acknowledged the truth in Lady Mary's words and came around the bed.

Mary continued, "I freely admit that more than one gentleman, including Mr. Crawley, favored my eyes, leaving me no doubt that they are fine, but Matthew's were extraordinary."

Anna, now coming close enough to view the image that captivated her charge stood silent, once again in full agreement.

Hearing the maid's footsteps behind her, Mary turned to the woman who had catered to her needs for over a decade and had during that time come to mean a great deal to her and smiled.

"I still miss him terribly you know," she said before returning her eyes to her husband's image. Though I no longer walk the halls of Downton like a tragic figure in a Bronte novel, I feel half myself without him...and I fear that may never change."

"Give it time, Mi'Lady, Anna offered encouragingly as she took in the happy faces of the wedding couple before her, reflecting on their relationship. After a long pause, she added, "I know better than most how strong the bond that existed between you and Mr. Crawley. It was unyielding in the face of adversity, through misunderstandings and separation by war. It did not break even when you both made vows to others. A bond like that can only be severed by death. Yet even then, it takes time."

Mary's head snapped around and she glared at Anna.

"I'm sorry Mi'lady…I shouldn't have…."

Taking a deep breath, Mary got hold of her emotions and said, "It is all right, Anna… Don't ever apologize for speaking your mind to me, especially when you make such perfect sense."

Her thoughts turned then to the night Matthew had come to her room to make peace after one of the misunderstandings Anna had referred to.

"It was something that Tom said," he had offered by way of explanation for his being there. "He said I would never be happy with any one else as long as you walked the earth and he was right."

Mary pulled a handkerchief from her robe pocket and blotted the tears that had welled in her eyes. The problem, darling, she said silently to the image of her late husband is that I find I cannot be happy with anyone else but you whether you walk the earth or not. Then coming back to the present, her eyes shifted to the clock on the mantle and she hurried off to attend to her ablutions rattling "I'm late," over her shoulder.

…

Fortunately Tom Branson's affection for his sister-in-law outweighed his impatience, and the only consequence Mary suffered was his raised eyebrows when she finally entered the dining room. Knowing she was delaying their departure, she made quick work of her bacon and eggs and asked Carson to have Anna bring down her burgundy coat and hat.

Mary exited the house on Tom's heels and found the car had already been brought around by Mr. Stark, no less punctual than her brother-in-law. The chauffeur stepped out of it upon seeing them and opened the passenger door for her. Tom took his place behind the steering wheel, glanced to his side to make certain his sister-in-law was seated comfortably and then smiled.

"Ready?" he asked, clearly happy that they were finally on their way.

"I am," Mary replied. "…but have you checked the baskets to be sure they pass muster?"

Tom grinned, "Yes, Mi'Lady," he quipped reverting to the way he addressed her when their social standing stood worlds apart.

Mary followed suit, "I'm glad to hear it, Mr. Branson," she replied in her most dignified voice. "Now, perhaps you would be so kind as to put the car in gear so that we do not find ourselves ringing in 1923 with Mr. Drew."

They both laughed at the notion as Tom navigated the vehicle onto the road leading out of Downton to spread their good tidings. On their way, a light snow began to fall on the windshield. As she watched the white flakes accumulating, Mary was reminded of a January day much like this one in the not too distant past.

The sight of the road ahead as well as the Scots Pines that bordered it faded as Mary envisioned Anna helping her get into the dress she would wear that evening at the Servants Ball. She recalled, too, how her eyes had been drawn to her window that night as she caught sight of the flakes of ice dancing in the moonlight. The scene outside of Downton's walls had been peaceful and a welcome change after the turmoil that raged inside them an hour earlier.

"Matthew had a mean right hook," Mary blurted out breaking the silence in the vehicle.

"Where did that come from?" Tom asked, eyeing her over quickly before bringing his eyes back to the road.

She chuckled before replying, "The memory of Matthew grappling with Sir Richard just popped into my head."

Tom nodded and smiled having heard a great deal about the altercation over the years even though he hadn't witnessed it personally.

Mary continued, "You know, Tom, after giving it further thought, I don't think I gave Matthew quite enough credit for the punch he delivered. He was really quite impressive."

Tom's smile grew even wider as he nodded in agreement. Then switching hands on the wheel, he reached over and gave hers a gentle squeeze as he said in agreement, "That he was, Mary."

….

The two estate managers spent most of their time at the Drew farm as they took a quick inventory of the pigs before presenting the livestock manager with the finest basket in the bunch. Based on the bags Mary saw under Mr. Drew's eyes, his calloused hands and the clearly thriving Tamworth hogs, it was clear to her that he deserved it.

There was no longer any doubt in her mind that her Papa had made the right decision in lending Mr. Drew the money to pay his rent when he was in arrears, and she made a mental note to tell him so when she got back to Downton. Then taking note of the time, Mary gestured to Tom that she was ready to leave.

As they parted, the happy recipient of the basket of cheer thanked them for both the gift and the opportunity they had given him.

"You can count on me, Mi'Lady," Mr. Drew said grasping Mary's hand. "I will not let you down. You have my word."

"I have no doubt of it, Mr. Drew," she replied gripping his hand firmly. "Rest assured that both Mr. Branson and I are very pleased by what you have accomplished so far. We came today not only to wish you and your family a happy new year, but to let you know that your efforts have not gone unnoticed and are very much appreciated."

Beaming with pride, Mr. Drew offered, "I wish you and your family a happy and prosperous new year, as well, Mi'Lady...and how wonderful that Lady Edith has returned from her trip in time to celebrate it with you."

Mary smiled politely in the farmer's direction but could not help her raised eyebrow as she wondered how in God's name Mr. Drew had known about her sister's recent travel. She said nothing of it, however, and ended their conversation by thanking him for his good wishes. Then she made her way to the car.

She was joined shortly by Tom, who felt the need to shake Mr. Drew's hand again and pat him on the back one last time before getting behind the wheel. As they made their way back to Downton, Mary was happy to see the snow had stopped. She had no aversion to it whatsoever under normal circumstances. Today, however, was different as she feared any substantial accumulation would preclude the two gentlemen who were coming to celebrate the New Year from leaving the next morning as planned.

Mary enjoyed spending time with each of her suitors separately, but the two of them together in the same room vying for her attention made her hair stand on end. She could grin and bear dealing with Tony Foyle and Mr. Blake tonight and with a concerted effort keep a smile planted on her face throughout breakfast in the morning. However, she wasn't certain how long she would be able to remain cordial if she were (heaven forbid) snowed in with the two men for any more time than that. She did after all have her limits.

Deliveries behind them and pleased that their mission was a success, Tom and Mary parted ways in the Grand Hall. She headed to her bedroom to ready herself for Downton's guests while he set off for the library and Lord Grantham in order to give him a report of the morning's activities.

…

The teal colored evening dress lying on her bed was the first thing that Mary noticed as she passed through the threshold of her bedroom door. The second was Anna close on her heels requesting that she try the dress on one last time to be certain it didn't require Miss Baxter, Lady Grantham's personal maid, to alter it.

Looking at the lovely creation from the House of Worth, Mary felt a small pang of guilt over its cost. To be sure, she had splurged in buying it. Then again, she had not purchased any new clothing to speak of since coming out of mourning. Seeing it featured in La Gazette du bon Ton, the Paris fashion magazine, two month's earlier, she knew immediately it would be the perfect dress to wear on New Year's Eve and that she must have it.

The Dowager Countess had offered to pay for it when she had balked at the price tag stating that it was worth every penny she would spend to see her eldest granddaughter ring in 1923 in such lavish style, but Mary refused her grandmother's generous offer. Since she took an active role in managing the estate, it pleased her immensely to pay for what she wanted out of her own pocket, and so she did.

The dress had a straight skirt and bodice with one beaded green strap and two rows of the same color beads at the waist. Although the looser styles that had been popular since 1920 no longer accentuated her slender midsection, the amount of bare skin it displayed compensated for that by drawing attention to her other assets.

The same beading extended to the band that would encircle her head which was adorned on one side with a lovely feather, its plume boasting a variation on the color of both dress and beading.The ensemble had brought to mind the peacock that graced the screen before the fireplace and Mary smiled thinking of how Matthew would have found humor in the similarity, no doubt teasing her mercilessly about it.

However, she was certain that Lord Gillingham and Mr. Blake's reaction would be quite different. She envisioned how their mouths would drop when they saw her enter the room in the dress and smiled inwardly. It had been years since she had garnered that kind of attention and the thought of it appealed to her vanity.

Mary was pondering the number of covert stares that would follow her throughout the night when a knock on her bedroom door broke her out of her speculative musings.

It appeared her dress fitting had been completed in the knick of time as Jimmy Kent, the First footman who Mr. Carson insisted be addressed as "James" informed Anna that Lady Mary's guests had arrived.

Mary had known that Tony Foyle and Charles Blake were making the trip from London together. It made sense since each man knew the other had been invited and Lord Gillingham and Mr. Blake had been friends since they served together on the Iron Duke during the Battle of Jutland in the Great War.

Not for the first time, Mary pondered as she left the Gallery and took her first steps down whether or not the two had ever discussed their feelings for her. She knew Charles suspected that she was the reason Tony broke off his engagement to Mabel Lane Fox, a very eligible heiress. Just as Lord Gillingham was aware that she and Mr. Blake had grown close during the time he spent at Downton recently.

The latter brought to mind the night she and the government official had spent dispensing water to the newly delivered and quickly dehydrating pigs. Mary smiled inwardly seeing herself in her mind's eye splattered with mud and giggling like a schoolgirl as she threw a handful of it at him.

She could only remember one time that she had laughed harder and the vision of her and Mr. Blake was replaced by that of Anthony Strallan evoking God's name as he choked on a dessert which would thereafter be dubbed "the salty pudding".

Now it was Matthew's laughter that filled her ears and she envisioned him sitting beside her as he had that night doing his best to hide his amusement over Sir Anthony's predicament by burying his face in his dinner napkin.

As the memory passed, she concluded that she owed Sir. Anthony a debt of gratitude since his misfortune resulted in her and Matthew not only finding common ground but her coming to the realization that she wanted to cultivate it.

That is one debt that will have to remain unpaid she vowed, remembering her sister Edith's shattered face when Sir Anthony left her at the altar on their wedding day and fled the church.

She focused her thoughts on matters at hand, then, as she descended the last set of stairs leading to the Great Hall and caught sight of Mr. Carson removing Tony Foyle's coat while Charles Blake shed his own.

Both men looked up as they heard her approaching with matching expressions of admiration on their faces. Mary's eyes went from one to the other and she smiled broadly while silently praying that the weather held up.

With his coat still in hand, Charles Blake took advantage of his friend rendering his hat and gloves to the Head Butler and took a step forward to greet his hostess.

"It is good to see you, again, Mary," he said without a trace of insincerity in his voice as he grasped her hand and planted a peck on her right cheek.

"I'm happy to see you back at Downton so soon, Charles," she said, sounding equally sincere (although she wasn't certain if she was) before returning his modest kiss.

Their hands and gaze remained locked until the sound of someone clearing their throat with gusto came from behind Charles. Mr. Blake's happy countenance changed to that of annoyance as he caught sight of Mary's grin, confirming his suspicion that the person interrupting their happy reunion was not Mr. Carson. Reluctantly, he let go of her hand and stepped off to the side.

"You look as lovely as ever, Mary," Tony gushed as he moved forward and took the hand his friend had reluctantly surrendered and brought it to his lips.

"Thank you, Tony," she said a bit distracted by the warm, moist sensation on her knuckles.

He is quite a handsome man, Mary mused. I'll give him that. Then glancing at his former comrade in arms, she conceded, as is Charles Blake.

There was no doubt in her mind that both men could easily turn any woman's head, but having spent a considerable amount of time with each of them, she had discovered that though likely cognizant of the fact that he was good looking, Charles made nothing of it. Tony, on the other hand, used his good looks to his advantage.

Mary commended Charles' modesty but could not in good conscience render Tony a black mark because he made the most of his physical attributes. She concluded it would be hypocritical considering she had been doing the same thing the majority of her life.

This time it was Mr. Blake that broke the silence in the room. Handing his coat to Mr. Carson, he removed a large handkerchief from the left pocket, brought it to his nose and honked like a goose that was being hunted. Startled by the sound, Mary abruptly pulled her hand from Lord Gillingham's and rendered Charles a sardonic look. He in turn smiled at her, his face a picture of innocence, before he turned to Tony, who was now shooting daggers at him with his eyes.

Here we go again, Mary muttered to herself, ready to throw her hands in the air at the sight of the two grimacing at one another. Then she let out a sigh of relief as Carson interrupted the comical scene by announcing that tea would be served in a half hour should they wish to refresh themselves and called for "James" to show them to their respective rooms.

The two gentlemen composed their facial expressions, bowed in her direction and reluctantly followed the footman upstairs. As the pair ascended to the Gallery, they did their best to keep their voices low, but Mary could still hear Lord Gillingham and Charles Blake trading barbs until they were well out of hearing distance.

As the sound of the two suitor's bickering finally ended, she turned her gaze to the Head Butler and rolled her eyes.

"Thank you, Carson," she said smiling. Your timing, as always, is perfect."

He bowed his head in her direction before replying, I'm glad to be service, Mi'Lady."

Then just before he turned to leave, he added. "Rest assured, Lady Mary, that I will do my utmost during Lord Gillingham and Mr. Blake's stay to make certain it is enjoyable as possible…for you."

...

Mary found her family members and Downton's guests already intermingling in the Drawing Room upon her entering it. Settling into a comfortable spot on the sofa next to her Mother Cora, the Countess of Grantham, both tea and conversation soon began to flow freely.

She found that Tom, bless his soul, was keeping Lord Gillingham and Charles Blake entertained across the room and she thanked her lucky stars that she was spared that duty at the moment.

Leisurely sipping her tea, Mary could tell that the three men were engaged in a political discussion as "Andrew Bonar Law", "Conservatives" and "Irish Free State" rang out from the far side of the room.

As her eyes scanned the rest of it, Mary, found her sister Edith and their Aunt Rosamund huddled together on one of the settees in deep discussion. The two seemed inseparable as of late, their jaunt to Switzerland a case in point. Still intrigued by Mr. Drew's knowledge of their trip, Mary did her best to hear what the two were going on about. Unfortunately the conversation taking place between her mother and grandmother drowned theirs out.

"But wouldn't it…," Cora Crawley managed before her mother-in-law, the Dowager Countess, cut in.

But couldn't it…," the current Countess of Grantham tried again before being cut off once more by her predecessor.

Mary looked to her father who was standing in his customary spot at the fireplace and raised her eyebrows. Lord Grantham smiled knowingly at his eldest daughter's expression. Taking in the same one-sided conversation that she was, a sympathetic look formed on his face.

She had no doubt her Papa commiserated with her Mother as he knew first hand how difficult it was to get a word in edgewise when the Dowager Countess felt the need to express her opinion.

And when didn't she? Mary thought as she rose and headed for Mr. Barrow and the finger sandwiches and scones on the tea tray. There she remained with cup and saucer in hand enjoying a birds' eye view of the Crawleys in action.

"Isobel will be back from the hospital in time to join us for dinner, won't she Mary?" Cora asked turning to her daughter the moment her mother-in-law released her in favor of her great niece, Rose MacClare.

"Yes, Mama, she told me she should be done with her volunteer work at the Hospital with enough time left to stop at Crawley House to dress for dinner before joining us."

There was no doubt in Mary's mind that the children at the Cottage Hospital would enjoy Isobel's narration of "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" as much as Sybbie, her late sister Sybil and Tom's daughter and her son George did. The children both squealed with delight whenever her mother-in-law came to visit.

Mary was happy to see Matthew's mother at Downton spending time with the only grandchild she would ever have. That had not been the case a year ago as Isobel had been as devastated by Matthew's death as she had been and remained in seclusion for a good while after his burial. It took the Dowager Countess' fine tuned methods of persuasion to bring her good friend and intellectual sparring partner back into the fold and the family that had grown to love and admire her in the years since she first came to Downton with Matthew.

Seeing his daughter standing alone, Lord Grantham squeezed his wife's shoulder and then set off to join their first born.

"Tom told me your morning excursion went quite well," Robert said with no small amount of pride in his voice.

Mary picked up on it and it pleased her very much.

"Yes, Papa, I believe it did. I think our small offering cemented ties nicely with those we wanted to."

Then both were distracted by the sound of Tom's proclamation, "It isn't enough." in response to something Lord Gillingham had said. Robert Crawley sighed and rolled his eyes before heading off to quell his son-in-law's enthusiasm.

"Good luck with that," Mary said silently as she made her way toward her sister and Aunt Rosamund. Drawing closer to them, she saw Edith shaking her head back and forth in response to something their aunt was saying to her. Yet both motion and conversation ceased the moment she reached them.

"Are you quite well, Edith," Mary inquired now noticing how pale her sister appeared.

"Of course, she is," Rosamund replied on her niece's behalf while Edith sat quietly nodding in agreement.

Pretending to believe it, Mary continued, "I take it you both found Switzerland to your liking?"

Again, her younger sister remained quiet and allowed their father's to speak for her.

"Yes, very much," she said with what Mary thought was forced joviality manufactured for her benefit.

Both Edith's and their aunt's behavior during the last few minutes confirmed her suspicion that they were hiding something from the family and this spontaneous trip had something to do with it.

Why in God's name would anyone need to go to Switzerland to master French? Mary asked herself.

Giving the two conspirators one last look, she returned to her Mother's side, telling herself she had better things to do than spend her time trying to figure out what was going on with Edith.

Mary, distracted and more than a bit put off by Isis licking her bum in front of the fireplace, had not seen Tony Foyle approaching. When he arrived, she noticed his face a bit flushed, no doubt a result of the lively conversation he had just quit with her brother-in-law.

After addressing and offering his compliments to all the ladies present, Lord Gillingham took the empty seat beside her, took a deep breath and let it out. Mary presumed this was done to clear his head after debating with her brother-in-law for so long. Then he launched into a description of his and Charles' trip from London commenting on everything from the number of cars on the road to how lovely the landscape looked with the light dusting of snow.

Mary said, "How nice," each time Tony offered another tidbit of information. The conversation between them never veered into what she considered dangerous territory, meaning there was no question of her feelings for him or lack of them.

The sound of Tom's voice rising from across the room brought Mary's eyes to him and Charles Blake, who she sadly found rooted in the same spot he was in when she first entered the room.

Noting the political discussion still going strong and her Papa loosening his shirt collar, Mary thought the only saving grace was that Sarah Bunting, the liberal school teacher Tom had befriended, had not been invited. Had she been here to egg Tom on, she feared her Papa may have suffered an apoplexy before the year was out.

Charles managed to extricate himself from Tom's clutches only long enough to reaffirm to Mary how wonderful it was to see her and how much he was looking forward to the festivities later on that evening. Then the chatter died down, the china placed down to be cleared by the servants, and those they served rose and filed out of the Drawing Room in a leisurely fashion.

Truth be told, Mary was feeling drained by the activities of the day and all she wanted to do now was spend some precious time with George in the Nursery before going back to her bedroom, kicking off her shoes and having a lie-down.

A child's laughter could be heard in the hallway off the Gallery. It reverberated in Mary's ears familiar and welcome and it brought with it a vivid memory.

She saw herself in her mind's eye standing in the corner of the Nursery with her hands covering her eyes. Eight...nine...ten sounded in her head in the voice she possessed when she was about eight year's old. Then she envisioned herself removing her hands and shouting, I'm coming! You better have chosen a better hiding place this time, little sister.

It had not taken her long to find Sybil, four years her junior, in the room the two of them shared with their middle sister, Edith. Mary just had to follow the same sound that was emanating from the Nursery now which had led her to peak underneath Sybil's bed.

How I miss you, my Darling, Mary said silently to her late sister as she heard her daughter laughing on the other side of the door. Opening it, she found the pretty little tyke with her Mother's dark brown locks and blue eyes riding atop Tom's back as though he were her personal pony and urging him on.

"Go faster…faster," Sybbie demanded holding on tight to the collar of her father's shirt with one hand while pounding on his shoulder with the other, coiled into a tiny fist."

Mary smiled broadly at the sight of her brother-in-law and niece's antics as well as her son bouncing up and down in his crib with delight as he watched them.

"Hello, my sweet baby," Mary cooed to the toddler reaching over the bars of the crib to lift him. "Do you want to play with your cousin, Sybbie?"

George flailed his arms wildly in response to his Mother's question hitting her square in the jaw, prompting a loud chuckle from Tom. Moving her head out of reach so that she would not be clobbered again, Mary bent and placed George down on the carpet and he scampered off quickly on all fours in his Uncle's direction.

"You won't be laughing when he lands a shot on you," Mary warned Tom. "Don't forget what I said earlier about Matthew's wallop. You know the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," she added.

Looking at the little boy who owned her heart as much as his father did catching hold of one of his uncle's moving feet, Mary saw how close that particular fruit had landed and couldn't help but join in the laughter.

As she had found it hard to break away from George and Sybbie, there was no time for her to rest before dressing for dinner. Though at this point, she found it unnecessary as she felt energized from her visit to the Nursery. It had involved a good deal of physical exercise on her part, though she acknowledged no where near as much as it did on Tom's.

Mary conceded that getting into formal attire in order to entertain Downton's guests was less pleasing than visiting her offspring. Yet the routine was just as much a part of her life and she accepted that it likely would be for some time to come.

Though she knew that many affluent households were becoming more lax with regard to the practice of formal dress at dinner, the custom still held at Downton, especially on special occasions and so she commenced with Anna's able assistance to get into the dress that had cost her a small fortune.

An hour later, standing before the full length mirror while her lady's maid tied the band that was a must since it was introduced by Coco Channel around her head, Mary concluded the Worth was worth (pun intended) every penny that she had paid for it.

"You look beautiful, Mi'Lady," Anna said taking in her mistress in all her glory.

Mary was about to thank her for the compliment but was preempted by a knock on the door. In short order, she learned that her father had summoned her maid.

"How odd," Mary said as Anna made her way to leave the room. "I can't imagine why Papa would call upon you now when he knows you are assisting me dress."

"I can't either, Mi'Lady," Anna responded. "But we'll both know soon enough."

Mary nodded before moving to her vanity and seating herself before the mirror to apply her makeup, the unease she felt causing a deep crease to mar her brow..

"Please don't worry, Lady Mary. I'm sure it is nothing for you to be concerned about," Anna offered with her hand on the doorknob. Then she made her way to Lord Grantham.

"Let's hope," Mary replied, a bit anxious by this turn of events.

Anna returned in less than five minutes appearing distraught.

"What is it?" Mary asked nervously as she took in the expression on her maid's face. "Is something wrong with Lord Grantham?"

Anna took a deep breath before responding, "No, Mi'Lady. He is fine…perfectly fine…It is just…"

Placing her poppy colored lipstick down on the vanity table, she asked, "What? Anna, what is it?"

"Well, your father has asked that all family members, including Mrs. Crawley, who arrived about a half hour ago, meet him in the Drawing Room."

"Whatever for?" Mary shot back taking noting of the time, "Won't the gong be ringing shortly?"

"Dinner has been postponed, Mi'Lady," Anna replied in an anxious tone.

"And you have no inkling why"?

"No, Mi'Lady, I don't…but…"

"But you are worried, aren't you? I can see it plainly on your face."

"Well…Lord Grantham asked me to fetch the spirits of ammonia that Mrs. Hughes keeps on hand and..."

Like a gush of wind, Mary flew past Anna in search of her Papa, leaving the remainder of the maid's response to her question hanging in the air.

…

Mary heard Doctor Clarkson's voice as she reached the second landing and a chill ran over her body as she concluded that any gathering that required both spirits of ammonia and his presence did not bode well. Keeping a firm grip on the banister, she picked up her pace.

Half way down to the main floor, she heard another male voice that was unfamiliar to her. It was deep and authoritative, the type that commanded your attention. Having hers, she did her best to decipher the man's words, but his voice faded as he moved further away from the staircase and she had no success.

When she finally reached her destination, she found the door to the Drawing room closed and Mr. Carson standing at attention in front of it reminiscent of a guard at Buckingham Palace.

"Lady, Mary," the Head Butler said bowing his head before opening the door for her.

As was the case earlier when they met in this room for tea, she was the last of the family to arrive. She pondered why and quickly concluded that the others were summoned a good while before she had been.

Like modesty, patience was not one of her virtues and she could feel her curiosity getting the better of her. If someone doesn't tell me what is going on soon, there is going to be hell to pay, she vowed with her hands clenched in fists at her side as she entered the room.

Her family was gathered around Doctor Clarkson and a man she did not recognize but by process of elimination had to belong to the stranger she had heard speaking a moment earlier. Now, however, all was silent.

Isobel and her mother stood side by side, their arms interlocked. Her mother-in-law's expression was blank, but not so her Mama's. Papa must have told her what this is about, Mary surmised, seeing the strained look on her mother's face. It bolstered her belief that Americans were an open book when it came to their true feelings.

Tom, with an anxious expression on his own, stood a few feet to the right of the Countess and Aunt Rosamund, Cousin Rose and her sister completed the small group around Doctor Clarkson and his companion. The women stood so close that their shoulders touched, the sight of them huddled together increasing her apprehension over this impromptu gathering.

She scanned the room for her Papa and found him standing beside the Dowager Countess, who was seated in a wing chair off to the side of the group, just close enough to participate in whatever was taking place. Quickly, she took note that her father had one of his hands placed firmly on his mother's shoulder.

Though the Dowager Countess's face was unreadable, the tight grip she had on her cane gave away her own inner turmoil. She appeared to be readying herself to spring out of her seat at any second and Mary wondered whether her father's hand was there to support her grandmother or to keep her from bounding.

No matter which, the Earl left his mother's side as soon as he spotted her standing across the room and came to join her. Tom moved with alacrity to the vacated spot beside the Dowager Countess, heightening Mary's ever rising anxiety.

"Papa…what…?" is all she got out before her father took her arm and guided her into the center of the room where they joined the two men standing there.

"I'm glad you could join us, Lady Mary," the still unknown visitor said, his voice confirming her earlier assumption correct. "I have heard a great deal about you."

Mary quickly took in his appearance before responding and found he had a commanding presence, though it had more to do with the way he comported himself than his stature. He was shorter than her father with gray hair that had not yet completely taken over his mustache and cropped beard. Focusing on his face, she judged him to be about her Papa's age and in good health.

The man was impeccably groomed and spoke well though she did not think him an aristocrat in spite of his well tailored suit. Appearing a scholar in metal rimmed glasses, he gave her the impression of one who worked at a profession as Matthew had. If she had to venture a guess, Mary would say he was either a solicitor or a physician.

She learned the latter was correct as Doctor Clarkson led the stranger to her and said, "Lady Mary, may I present Doctor Henry Head, a colleague of mine from London."

"It is a great pleasure to meet you, Lady Mary," Doctor Head declared offering her his hand.

She took it but brought it back to her side quickly, certain that he would take note of how cold it was. Then inwardly cringed as Doctor Head gave her a sympathetic look that all but confirmed he had.

"No doubt you have been wondering why I am here, so let me get straight to the point," he said, his voice deep and measured. "Doctor Clarkson and I have spent a considerable amount of time with Lord Grantham since we arrived in relaying information of the utmost importance to the Crawley family. After hearing what we had to say, he thought it best that we render it to you and Mrs. Crawley specifically with the rest of your family members present."

Mary swallowed hard, "Please do Doctor Head. The suspense is killing me."

At that, Mary saw Isobel let go of her Mother and make her way toward her. Once her mother-in-law was at her side, she felt her father's arm stretch out behind her back far enough to rest on Matthew's mother's shoulder, thereby encompassing them both.

She turned to the Earl then and DaVinci's "The Last Supper" came to mind as she found the look on his face as he stared at Dr. Head reminiscent of that of an apostle beholding Jesus. Panic rose up in her at the sight of it and she began to tremble slightly.

"Are one of the children, ill, Papa?" she asked grabbing hold of the sleeve of his dinner jacket. Then, not giving him any time to respond, she continued, "Oh God…it is George, isn't it? Something is wrong with my son!"

"Mary, you are letting your mind run away with you," the Earl responded quickly, doing his best to calm her. "Rest assured that George is perfectly fine...and so is Sybbie," he added taking note of the look of alarm on Tom's face. "Please…just listen to what Doctor Head and Doctor Clarkson have to say."

The London physician motioned to his colleague to take the floor first and Doctor Clarkson addressed her while the rest of the family stood in place mesmerized by the scene taking place before their eyes.

"Lady Mary, I have brought Doctor Head here because he has some…he is in possession of some very important information…some news that you no doubt will find…"

Doctor Clarkson ran his right hand through his hair and sighed before ending his sentence with, "shocking."

Mary shifted her gaze to Doctor Head, took a deep breath, looked him straight in the eye and said, "All right, then, tell me why you've come."

The physician cleared his throat and replied, "I am here because in September of 1921 a man was admitted into my care at the London Hospital in Whitechapel in an unconscious state and with no means of identification. My examination led me to discover that my patient suffered injuries consistent with that of someone involved in an automobile accident, including a trauma to his brain that prevented him from speaking an intelligible word for weeks.

Mary stood frozen as did the rest in the room as Doctor Head continued his response to her question.

"You see, at first, he lost consciousness quite often. When he recovered enough to stay awake for a prolonged period of time and to speak rationally, it became evident that the injury to his head had rendered him an amnesiac, meaning he had no knowledge of who he was or his life before he woke in his hospital bed."

Mary's eyes bore into the man standing before her as her brain processed the information it was given and arrived at the logical conclusion that he had come from London to Downton because he believed his patient to be her late husband. She realized Isobel's thought process had led her down the same path as she felt her mother-in-law's body begin to tremble in unison with her own.

At the same time she concluded that the amnesiac the doctor from London was speaking of could not be Matthew because he had died on the day their son was born. The family had buried him, after all, not long after she returned to Downton with George in her arms.

But you never saw his dead body, a small voice in her head told her, the words unsettling her even further.

Anger rose within her as the memory of that fateful day and the pain that followed rose to the front of her mind and she silently cursed Doctor Head for coming to Downton and giving her false hope, even if only for a second.

She raised her hand, shaking her head back and forth vehemently in an attempt to stop the doctor from speaking further. Then she heard her Grandmother's voice booming from across the room.

"Doctor Clarkson," the Dowager Countess said with no less authority in her voice than Doctor Head's. "Your bringing this charlatan to Downton is evidence that you have lost any sense of propriety. In fact, it appears you have lost your ability to think rationally at all"

All eyes now were upon Violet Crawley who clearly only remained in her seat because Tom was doing his best to keep her there.

The Dowager continued, "I do not know how you managed to convince my son that the nonsense this colleague of yours has been spewing has any merit, but I demand that you both leave this house immediately."

Finding her mother-in-law had usurped her authority, the current Countess of Grantham interjected, "See here, this is my house…mine and Roberts…and we want Doctor Head and Clarkson to continue."

Mary's head whipped from her Grandmother to her Mother and then back again before she addressed the situation herself.

"Doctor Head, I appreciate your taking the time to come all the way from London to relay your news...," she said dryly through clenched teeth. "...but I can assure you that the man you have been treating is not Matthew Crawley. I am afraid I must agree with my Grandmother in that I am surprised my father did not make that quite clear to you earlier."

Doctor Head shared a glance with Lord Grantham and let out a sigh of frustration.

At that, Mary turned to Doctor Clarkson and exploded. "I can only assume the reason Doctor Head is under the assumption that he has been treating Mr. Crawley is because you have conferred with him and bolstered his belief," she spat out.

Doctor Clarkson stiffened and only managed, "Lady Mary…." before he was stopped short by her raised hand.

"I would like to finish what I have to say to you without interruption, Doctor Clarkson," she demanded.

The doctor nodded his head and acquiesced, giving himself a respite from her onslaught.

"You of all people must know the patient Doctor Head is speaking of cannot be my late husband because you signed his death certificate," she said with exasperation. "I can only assume that your feelings of futility and guilt over not being able to save my husband's life have clouded your ability to think... perhaps made it impossible for you to…"

Seeing the man squirming before her, Mary took pity on him and ended her tirade. She then took a deep breath in an effort to calm down before she spoke again.

"No one more than I would like to identify this unfortunate man who was coincidentally injured on the same day my husband died as Matthew Crawley…"

"Lady Mary…" Doctor Clarkson interjected."

"No!" she cried out, her anger getting the best of her once more.

She caught sight then of Tom staring at her from across the room, raising his free hand to his shoulder with his palm facing down and slowly lowering it.

"No," Mary said in a softer tone as she forced her rage back down.

"My husband is dead, Doctor Clarkson…and it is wrong…horribly wrong for you….for you and Doctor Head to come here and make these wild claims…to open old wounds that are just beginning to heal."

Mary turned then to Isobel who had remained silent throughout and found her mother-in-law's face was pale and her eyes were filled with tears. The sight of it broke her heart and she was about to ask her if she would like to leave, perhaps rest a bit in her room when the sound of Doctor Clarkson's voice bellowing stopped her.

"He is alive, Lady Mary," he proclaimed loudly at his own peril, drawing gasps from many in the room. "I have seen him with my own eyes…seen him…spoken to him and physically examined him. He is alive and in good health."

Doctor Head moved to his colleague's side then, nodding his head in agreement.

"The truth is Matthew Crawley survived the accident that befell him and was taken to the London Hospital where Doctor Head likely saved his life," Doctor Clarkson concluded.

As Mary shook her head in disbelief back and forth, Doctor Head addressed her once again.

"You can call The London Hospital right now to check my credentials, Lady Mary," he said calmly in spite of the exchange that he just witnessed. "If you do, you will learn that I oversee the Head Trauma Ward at that facility. It was in that capacity that I had scheduled a meeting with Doctor Clarkson earlier today to discuss a treatment plan for his brother, who is one of my patients."

Isobel took hold of Mary's hand and squeezed it as the doctor went on.

"When he came to my office, the amnesiac I have described to you was with me and Doctor Clarkson was flabbergasted when he recognized the man who he had believed to be dead and buried."

Mary heard the sound of her heart pounding in her ears and her throat became so dry that she could not manage to swallow the lump that had settled in it.

"Doctor Clarkson is not suffering a delusion nor has he planted a seed in my head to lead me to believe my former patient to be your husband," the physician offered. He paused then before adding," Contrary to what your Grandmother, who by the way is the first and only person who has ever accused me of being a charlatan, has asserted, both he and I are of sound mind and quite reputable."

With each word the doctor spoke, Isobel increased the pressure on Mary's hand, making it feel as though it were in a vice. Yet though she winced, she did not have the heart to remove it.

"In short, Lady Mary," Doctor Head concluded, "your husband is as alive as I am. In fact, at this very moment he is sitting inside my car, which is parked near the back entrance of this magnificent house, waiting for someone to come and retrieve him."

Mary blinked as Doctor Head's last words sunk in and then fled the room as though someone had shouted "Fire" with Isobel in tow heading for the Servant's Hall and the door that would lead her to Matthew.

Though Mary couldn't understand how it was possible that her husband was alive, she believed the Doctors Head and Clarkson now. It was clear to her that Isobel did, too. Otherwise she would not be bounding down the steps behind her risking life and limb.

Making their way with alacrity toward their destination, the two of them rushed past some of the servants readying themselves for their own New Year's Eve celebration. Clearly, Mary thought seeing their startled faces, they never expected to see this in the Servants' Hall. Not stopping to take a breath, it didn't take long for them to cross through the threshold of the back entrance to the house.

Once outside, the cold night air washed over Mary's scantily clad body as though a bucket of ice water had been poured over her, but she welcomed it as she was still overheated by her flight. However, taking in Isobel's appearance, it was clear that the unaccustomed physical strain had taken its toll on her.

Matthew's mother was panting heavily, beads of perspiration covering her now scarlet face as she leaned against the door frame for support, causing Mary to fear that the first thing her husband would see once he exited Doctor Head's car was his mother collapsing.

As if she were reading her daughter-in-law's mind, Isobel choked out, I'm fine, Mary. Please don't concern yourself, my dear. I just need to catch my breath."

Mary could not help but worry but the anxiety she felt was dampened with relief as she spotted the black sedan parked just far enough to be missed if you weren't looking for it. The next thing she noticed was that there was a man pacing back and forth in front of it who Doctor Head had failed to mention. Another unknown visitor, she lamented to herself before hearing Isobel address her.

"He is here, Mary,' her mother-in-law declared with conviction as she gulped in the night air. Matthew is alive and waiting for us inside that car. I'm certain of it."

Tears welled in Mary's eyes as she stood frozen in place staring at the vehicle and the stranger before it, who had now stopped moving and had fixed their attention on her and Isobel. The anxiety she felt a few moments before returned tenfold as a minuscule of doubt rose to the surface.

"I'm afraid, Isobel," Mary said her voice trembling and eyes lowered to the ground. "Terrified, actually. I'm frightened out of my wits that I will look inside that car and find it empty…or that I will find Matthew inside but once I do, he will disappear and I will wake up in my bed alone with my husband and happiness wretched from me once more by reality."

Isobel placed her hand under her daughter-in-law's chin and raised her face so that their eyes were level. ""My dear girl, I know how you have suffered but you mustn't lose hope. This is no dream, Mary. I cannot vouch for the physician from London but I trust Doctor Clarkson implicitly. You have nothing to fear, my dear. Soon both your pain and mine will be a thing of the past."

Mary forced a smile and nodded. Then she hesitantly asked, "Isobel, would you go to the car first and look inside and then signal me to come if…," she began but changed it to "...when you see Matthew?" upon seeing her mother-in-law's eyebrows raise.

As a permanent fixture in the bucking-up brigade would do, Isobel patted her daughter-in-law's hand and replied, "Of course, I will, Mary. I think that is an excellent plan."

Then Isobel Crawley took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and strode purposely in the direction of the dark sedan that she believed held her and Mary's happiness.

…

Fueled by nervous energy, Mary bounced in place with her arms wrapped around herself as she followed Matthew's mother's steps toward the car, stopping only when she saw the man who had been pacing in front of the automobile approaching Isobel.

What in God's name...? Mary muttered to herself craning her neck in an attempt to get a better view of what was transpiring.

The distance and the clouds filtering the moonlight made it impossible for her make out anything with clarity. No matter how hard she strained her eyes, all she could manage was the outline of the two standing in close proximity to one another.

As time passed, Mary's frustration over literally being kept in the dark and her growing concern for her mother-in-law outweighed her desire to stay put, but just as she took her first step forward, the full moon broke through its veil highlighting the grounds.

Seeing clearly now that the unknown visitor had hold of her mother-in-law's hand, Mary bit her lip so hard that she drew blood. For the second time in as many seconds, she decided to take action to ensure Isobel's well-being, but halted when it became clear that Isobel had no objection to what was transpiring.

Quite the opposite, Mary noted mentally as she watched the two conversing genially, the man still grasping Isobel's hand while she patted his shoulder with her free one.

"Just get on with it," she hissed before licking her lip and grimacing as a metallic taste filled her mouth.

A half minute that seemed an eternity passed by before she saw the man step aside and make a sweeping gesture with his arm toward the sedan, his action all but confirming her suspicion that he had been standing guard over the vehicle.

Not long afterward, Isobel was peering through one of the sedan's side windows and the moment Mary had desired and feared in equal measure put an end to her fidgeting. She stood completely still, eyes frozen wide as she watched the scene before her unfurl. Please, God...Please let him be here, she prayed. I truly don't think I can bear it if he isn't.

Then she saw Isobel turn away from the car and begin waving her on madly. At the sight of it, her right hand rose and covered her mouth, stifling the scream rising in her throat. A split second later, she bolted from her spot like a thoroughbred coming out of the gate at The Derby and began running toward the car as though her life depended on it.

It didn't take long for her to realize that T-Strap heels were not designed for sprinting as one of her ankles buckled under the strain a couple of yards from Isobel's newly acquired friend. The man took a step forward as he saw her falter, but she was able to right herself quickly and with concentration and determination, managed to keep her body upright and pressed on.

Bridging the distance between her and Isobel, she found that her thoughts were even more difficult to master as fragments of conversations that ended long ago surfaced in her mind. They drowned out the sound of her labored breath and feet pounding the gravel.

"Do you love Matthew?" floated in the air in her Mother's sweet voice.

"Yes, I think perhaps I do. I think I may have loved him much longer than I knew," she heard herself respond.

"Matthew's missing," echoed in her ears.

"But he's not dead. Not yet, anyway," her father's response came, his voice strong and reassuring.

As she caught sight of the car door opening, one last fragmented piece presented itself - her response to the question Matthew put to her on the heels of his meeting Richard Carlisle, the newspaper magnate who had wanted to marry her.

"I think I'm about to be happy," rang in her ears loud and clear.

Though this time, she was certain of it.

Mary was close enough now to see his long legs swinging out of the backseat, hand gripping the top of the door frame as he maneuvered the considerable length of his body out of the car. As he rose to his full height, the elusive full moon made an encore appearance, leaving no doubt as to his identity.

Matthew!" sprang from her lips in a strangled cry and she threw caution to the wind and picked up speed.

His arms were opened wide and even from this distance, she could see he was smiling from ear to ear, the sight pushing her on in spite of her shortness of breath and fatigue. Her forward momentum unchecked, she crashed into Matthew with such force that the two of them would have toppled if not for the vehicle at his back, the impact expelling whatever oxygen that remained in her lungs.

Shaken but still standing, she reached her arms up and locked them around his neck. He in turn encircled her waist with his own and held on tight.

Mary relished the feel of Matthew's body pressed against hers, especially the rise and fall of his chest. She laid her head upon it directly over his heart, the sound of it thumping away making her feel giddy.

"God, if I have gone mad, I beg you to keep me this way." she said, the sound of her voice muffled by her face buried into Matthew's shoulder. Then slowly she raised her head and looked up into the bluest eyes that she had ever seen except for their son's, extraordinary eyes that were now filled with tears.

"Welcome home, Matthew," she managed to eek out through trembling lips, raising her hand to push a lock of hair that had fallen onto his forehead back in place as she had done countless times before.

Overcome with emotion, Matthew croaked, "Mary," before he cupped her face between his hands and kissed her.

At first, the kiss was gentle as the two of them found themselves on ground that, although familiar, had not been traveled in a very long while. However, it did not take long for them to forget they had ever taken different roads and it deepened.

The future Earl and Countess of Grantham remained locked together in their passionate embrace until both felt certain that this kiss would not be their last. When they finally broke apart, Matthew swept Mary off her feet and spun her round and round as he did the night he proposed to her and she squealed with delight until he gently set her back down on the ground.

Feeling the chill in the air, he took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders before taking her hands in his and addressing her, his voice still raw and filled with emotion

"My darling Mary…my beautiful storm braver…," he said, wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "I am the happiest man on earth at this moment."

Mary's smile, brighter than the moon, left no doubt that she felt the same way.

"Though I confess I'm still finding in hard to believe that I am home…that this…," Matthew said opening his arms wide in a gesture to encompass his surroundings. "...that you are not a figment of my imagination."

She understood exactly what he meant and nodded. Then she pressed his hand firmly and declared, "Rest assured, my darling, this is real."

Matthew smiled and nodded before taking a few steps back. Still holding onto her hands, he looked her over from head to toe appreciatively and declared, "No man could forget you forever."

But he had forgotten me, came to her mind with a jolt, the realization of just how close they came to never seeing one another again overwhelming her and opening the floodgates.

…

Matthew drew Mary back into his arms and comforted her as she soaked the front of his shirt with her tears. Once spent, she lifted her head from the now damp linen, and said, "I'm sorry, Matthew."

"Please, darling, there is no need to…," he stopped mid-sentence remembering that Mary had not come to claim him alone. "Mother!" he exclaimed breaking his attention from Mary for the first time since they were reunited.

Turning his head, Matthew found her standing beside Joseph Cosgrove, the detective from Scotland Yard, who had stood guard before the car that contained him in order forestall his being discovered too soon. Joseph had worked tirelessly for over a year in London while Matthew lived there to uncover his true identity and during that time, he and the amnesiac had formed a close and lasting friendship.

His memory restored, Matthew frowned now as he noticed his Mother leaning on his dear friend for support and asked anxiously, "Are you quite well, Mother?"

Isobel didn't answer him immediately and Matthew took a step toward her but stopped when she raised her hand and assured him she had never been better. Clearly determined to span the short distance between herself and her son without assistance, she patted Joseph Cosgrove's shoulder for the second time that evening and made her way toward him and Mary.

When she was within his reach, Matthew pulled her close with his free hand while keeping his other arm wrapped tightly around his wife, the three of them smiling from ear to ear.

"My darling boy...," Isobel said, her voice cracking. "I could not have imagined this moment in my wildest dreams. Surely, I am witness to a miracle."

Looking from his wife to his mother, Matthew addressed that miracle by asking," Has Doctor Clarkson explained how I survived the accident and where I have been all this time?"

Mary responded, "Isobel and I did not stay long enough to hear all the details. Once the doctor from London confirmed Clarkson was not suffering a delusion and told us your whereabouts, we flew from the room as if it were ablaze."

She looked to her mother-in-law then and smiled before explaining to Matthew that the reason his mother had come to the car first was because she had been afraid to.

"Isobel is much braver than I am, darling," Mary offered, reaching across Matthew and taking hold of her hand.

Smiling broadly at the two women he held, Matthew declared they were both very brave and kissed each of them on their forehead. Then noticing the servants gathering outside the entrance to the house, the future Earl of Grantham turned to his good friend from London and said, "Since it appears the cat is out of the bag, I think it safe that we make our way inside, Joseph."

His arms still wrapped around the two women he loved most, Matthew guided them toward the detective in order to introduce him to Mary, having witnessed his Mother making her own introduction earlier.

"Joseph, Please allow me the honor of introducing you to my wife, Lady Mary Crawley," Matthew said beaming with pride.

Stepping forward with his hand outreached to her, Cosgrove smiled and said, "Lady Mary, there are no words adequate enough to express how happy I am to meet you. Then taking in her appearance, he added," I thought Matthew's description of his wife's beauty was exaggerated, but I now see I was wrong"

"My husband rarely exaggerates about anything," Mary replied with a sly grin, taking a firm grip on his hand. Then, "Thank you detective…not only for your compliment but the support you have provided my mother-in-law."

"It has been my pleasure," Joseph replied.

The social amenities were interrupted by the sound of chatter that emanated from the Courtyard in the rear of the house. Reaching the foursome's ears, they turned their heads in unison toward it. Then Detective Cosgrove nodded in Matthew's direction.

"Yes, we better get moving," Matthew responded to the detective's unspoken question. "If we don't get inside soon, a search party may be sent out to find us."

He smiled as he offered Mary his arm and she looped her own through it, grinning broadly back at him before the two set off with Detective Cosgrove and Isobel in tow toward the grand structure they called home.

As they drew closer to Downton, Mary thought of the group of servants that awaited them at the back entrance. She had no doubt they would be wondering how the sight before their eyes was possible as she had.

She glanced to her side at her husband and finding him eyeing the group ahead, squeezed his hand to reassure him that all would be fine. He in turn flashed her one of his most brilliant smiles. Returning it, Isobel's words came to the forefront of her mind.

"Surely, I am witness to a miracle," her mother-in-law had said taking in the sight of her son alive and well.

Mary pondered the events that had transpired since Anna had ushered the sunlight into her room that morning and how gloriously they had changed her life on this last day of 1922.

Then she looked to the heavens and mouthed, "Thank you."

...

AN: All characters from Downton Abbey belong to Julian Fellowes and I am grateful that he created them though I was not happy about where he took them. My hope is that my readers are pleased with where I have.

Your reviews, as always, would be greatly appreciated

I'm in the process of completing the remainder of Resurrection. It has taken on a life of its own (pun intended) so I am not sure if I am going to post in one or two parts due to the length. I will, however, post both on the same day if I do. Therefore, you might see Resurrection, Part II and Part III.

As I said, this has proven to be a very lengthy labor of love. I'm aiming for the end of this month. Fingers crossed.

Till then, I hope you are enjoying my little snippets of Mary & Matthew's life together.


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